Worth Everything
by Diary
Summary: "I'm sorry, Madam Skeeter, but I can't take the risk of being discovered." Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

...

The definition of voyeurism is different to many people.

Rita isn't above using her skills to observe the sexual exploits of others, but she receives no excitement from doing so. Sex, whether presented through deed or word, is often boring to examine, and when it's not, it's disgusting.

Granted, there are times when analysing the motives and feelings of those involved can be stimulating.

Longbottom is very detached; if not for the blanket partially covering the two, she's sure she'd see him flaccid. He's not scared or nervous, and he's not disdainful. He simply seems to have his mind elsewhere as he strokes Lovegood's skin, his other hand disappearing underneath the covers.

Lovegood, on the other hand, isn't, murmuring his name and arching upwards, trying to get more contact. Skin flushed, shiny, dilated eyes, under the covers, her legs lift up and spread.

"Soon," Longbottom promises, softly, as Lovegood's body goes taunt, her eyes rolling backwards.

Once she reorients herself, Lovegood answers, somewhat sadly, "People tell me 'soon' will never come."

Sighing, Longbottom leans down, kissing a spot on her neck, causing a visible shiver. "What about those aquavirius maggots Xenophilius brought you? What do they tell you?"

"They're rather fond of you," she answers. "Sometimes, I fear they and I are both suffering from severe bias."

"Luna," he says, reaching up to play with a strand of hair, "it will be soon, I promise. Harry's almost ready; once Percy Weasley's dead and his hold on the minister is gone, Harry'll give me the money. I can give enough to Gran to make sure she can always take care of herself and my parents, and we'll leave. We'll find a place with plenty of plant and wildlife to explore. And we'll make a baby."

Rita's so busy trying to process those casually spoken words – death, assassination – she almost misses the rest of the exchange.

Lovegood nods, reaching up to touch his hand. "I remember once having a dream of having twins."

Stroking the sensitive spot on her neck, Longbottom assures her, "Other people, they wouldn't understand what Percy is, what he's doing; they don't know what's really going on. I just can't take the risk of fathering a baby while he's still alive. Once it's safe, though, I promise I'll try to give you as many babies as you want. And when we've had enough or just need to space them out, we'll decide what the best precautions to take are."

Reaching over to trace a stretchmark near his chest, causing him to show the first sign of self-consciousness Rita's witnessed since she flew in, Lovegood tells him, "Ever since we danced in the Room of Requirement, the thought of you inside me has been arousing."

Sighing, he picks up his wand and summons his pants over, slipping them on underneath the blanket. "Hopefully, the reality will live up," he answers, turning on his side. She turns on hers, back to him, and he wraps his arms around her.

Lovegood's breathing evens out, first, and Longbottom kisses her hair. "I love you, Luna," he mutters, taking a deep breath, and letting his own start to slow and deepen.

…

At Percy Weasley's flat, she finds him undressing as he argues with Oliver Wood.

As always, she feels a sense of pride and irritation. She'd been the first one to write about their relationship. Naturally, few had believed her. Then, they'd done a joint interview with some puny sports magazine, confirming it.

"Those threats aren't harmless!"

Wealsey sighs. "Oliver, I've literally gotten worse from my brothers and sister. I'm not letting Harry put me in protective custody."

"I should have a say in this, Percy," Wood says from the bed.

"I've never stopped you from expressing your opinions," Wealsey answers, pulling his nightgown on. "That doesn't oblige me to do everything you think I should."

"Harry's worried; he can only protect you so much. No one else is going to take this seriously if-"

"I need to brush my teeth," Weasley interrupts.

Once he gets back, climbing into bed and taking off his glasses, Weasley says, "I'm well aware. I have an early morning. We can argue all night if you want, but it's not going to change anything. I'm not going to let what I'm convinced is a twelve-year-old child force the ministry to devote valuable, limited resources to me."

Clenching his fists, Wood says, "When I had that stalker after me, you forced me to accept protection."

"I gave you an ultimatum," Wealsey corrects, voice suddenly quiet and resigned. "And I don't regret it. If you do the same, I won't complain. But just know, it'll end with me still not agreeing."

"I'm not worth it," Wood says, flatly.

"Having a boyfriend isn't worth wasting such precious resources," Weasley answers. "You're worth everything."

"Except, you taking a threat seriously."

"You do remember that one of those letters claimed Harry, along with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, is plotting to kill me?"

"So? If you don't trust Harry, get one of the aurors you do."

"Of course, I trust Harry," Weasley says with a sigh. "I trust Neville, too. I'm sure I'd trust Miss Lovegood if I actually thought the daft girl had the capability of being a threat. My point is that this is pure attention-seeking. As soon as everyone starts ignoring the threats, the sender will get discouraged and find another target."

"And what if you're wrong?"

Propping himself up, Wealsey says, "Then, George and the others will be allowed to attend my funeral, after all."

"Percy."

Smiling slightly, Percy leans over to kiss him, stroking his cheek. "I've spent all my life never fitting in, never really living. Then, you sat down next to me in the bar that night, and suddenly, I had a place. I was living. If I thought these threats meant danger, I'd do something. But I'm not going to let the remote possibility of something bad happening disrupt my life, our lives."

"Fine," Wood says, frowning. "But if they get worse, you'll talk to Harry about further measures?"

"I promise," Weasley agrees.

They share a kiss, and Wood turns off the lights. "I love you, Percy."

"I love you, too," Weasley answers as they arrange themselves, Wood placing an arm over Weasley and pressing his chin against the other man's shoulder.

Once they fall asleep, she flies over to Weasley's desk and examines it. It's locked, and she knows she can't fit through the keyhole. Briefly, she considers reverting back to her natural form and unlocking it; the key's right on top of it. However, this being Percy Weasley, uptight, pompous, black sheep, she knows there's a good chance he has more than just a key protecting contents of the desk.

…

Leaving the flat, Rita tries to fit everything together.

Longbottom and Lovegood want to kill Percy Weasley, apparently with Harry Potter's help. Someone has been sending Wealsey threatening letters. Potter is the one in charge of protecting him.

She needs to go to the Potters'.

…

Unfortunately, she's so caught up in her thoughts, she doesn't realise there's danger until she finds herself in the familiar position of being in a glass jar.

"I'm sorry, Madam Skeeter, but I can't take the risk of being discovered."

Before there's time for fear to properly set in, there's a flash of green light.

…

Rita Skeeter wakes up groggy, trying to puzzle through her strange dream.

Brushing it aside, she goes on with her day, pausing when she runs into a pregnant Hannah Longbottom.

"Madam Skeeter," Hannah greets, neutrally. "Not planning on writing another article about me trying to cuckold Neville, are you? We can't hold Augusta back forever, you know."

"Well, dear, most married women don't entertain gentlemen in locked motel rooms."

"They do when someone floods their office and bar with disgustingly cheap perfume and don't want nosy reporters spying on sensitive business deals," Hannah retorts. "Anyway, it's not going to work; you can't break trust built on the foundation of honesty and respect. Good day, Madam Skeeter."

A imagine from her dream pops into her head, brief and fleeting, of Neville Longbottom, shirtless, kissing a similarly attired Luna Lovegood's hair. "You haven't heard from Miss Lovegood, have you?"

"Luna? Why? Planning on writing about supposed troubles with her and Rolf? I'd advise against that, Madam Skeeter. I can't hold my husband back, and honestly, I wouldn't try that hard. You don't know how happy he is that she's found someone like Rolf."

"No, I've set my sights on someone more interesting," Rita assures her. "Give Mrs Scamander my best."

…

Oliver sighs, wishing he'd just apparated home.

Rita Skeeter gives her sickly version of a sweet smile as he mounts his broom. "One question, Keeper Wood: Have you ever heard of a man called Percy Weasley?"

Pausing, he sits on the floating broom, brief flashes, forgotten as soon as they come, streaking through his mind.

_A redhead with freckles looking disapprovingly at the twins and Charlie. _

_Sharing ice-cream with the same redhead. _

_A crying redhead, now with glasses, sitting with the twins when Ginny Weasley was kidnapped. _

_In a bar, him asking, "Percy Weasley," as the same redhead, older, downs vodka. _

"_You're worth everything."_

Disoriented, Oliver climbs off the broom. "No, I don't think so. The twins never talked much about cousins and in-laws."

"I had a rather strange dream last night," Skeeter informs him. "In it, the Weasleys had six boys. I don't remember much aside from that, but would you care to guess what the missing boy's name was?"

"_I love you, Percy._"

"Fancy a drink," he inquires.

Some part of him knows this is a bad idea, but the other parts can't bring himself to care enough.

"Delighted," she answers, a genuine smile crossing her face.


End file.
